Immortal Love
by Lunar Siren
Summary: Esme reflects on Edward and Bella's relationship as she paints. One-shot. ExB fluff.


**Stephenie Meyer owns the **_**Twilight Saga**_**.**

**No copyright infringement intended.**

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The rumble and spitting of the ancient truck over the rain alerted Esme of Bella's arrival. She glanced at the clock while wiping paint off her hands. Bella knew Edward was hunting with his siblings today, why else would she show up except if something was wrong?

Esme hurried to the door to let Bella inside; the engine settled with a sharp _whoosh_ in the driveway before the young human opened the door. She looked up to see Esme on the porch.

"Hi, Esme," she called, waving with a big smile on her face.

Esme gave an elegant flick of her hand. "Good afternoon, Bella. Hurry inside before you catch a cold, dear." She never quite could turn off her motherly instinct—especially when Bella was involved. She was just a girl—an incredibly clumsy girl—that Esme couldn't help her fussing. Besides, when would she ever get to tell her children to look out for their well-being? All of them were so powerful, unmoved by normal human sickness.

Esme took Bella's coat and hung it to dry on the rack beside the door. The material was so soaked within those few seconds of running in the rain that water splashed on the floor. Only in Forks.

"It's so nice to see you, Bella," Esme claimed as she carefully hugged the girl. "But you know Edward won't be back for a few hours. Is something wrong?"

"No, everything is fine. I was just hoping to wait for Edward here, if that's okay?"

Esme smiled at the lilt in her voice. She didn't have to ask permission to stay. "Of course, Bella—our home is your home now. Please, make yourself comfortable." Esme didn't miss the way her thumb kept twisting the ring around her finger. _She's so anxious without him._

Bella removed her shoes at the door; she didn't want to track mud into Esme's spotless house. Esme escorted her to the living room where they sat and spoke about the upcoming wedding. She was more than ecstatic when she learned her son wanted to get married, and to such a charming girl.

For years Edward alienated himself so he was alone with his music. Rarely could Carlisle or Esme call him from his shell to have a proper conversation; she often commented how he seemed to be on auto-pilot, but even that garnered nothing more than a grunt. It was obvious he never adjusted well to the change. He seemed so lonely it was only logical to introduce Rosalie to the family, except it made Edward hostile when he found the truth.

Esme watched as he receded further into himself. When he wasn't ghosting through the world he was fighting with Rosalie, sometimes physically, until someone was hurt. Esme could see the rage boiling inside him whenever a new couple was introduced. No matter what his parents did it made him angry and he couldn't resist the teenage impulse to tell them off.

What a completely different person he was compared to the present. He didn't sulk anymore, he laughed, and he didn't bristle at his siblings' jokes, but instead got them back. He was playful and excited, so full of life, and he was happy. That's what mattered most to Esme—seeing her children happy. She never wanted Edward to feel like an outcast in their family; there was always a place for him. And now there was a place for Bella.

Esme's eyes caught sight of the clock on the wall; forty minutes passed while they discussed plans. Her paints! Edward would be home in less than twenty minutes, Bella was fine on her own in the empty house.

She excused herself from the living room, reminding Bella to help herself to whatever she needed. Esme hurried up the stairs to her study, hoping her paints didn't dry, and entered to find her rendition of _Bal Au Moulin de la Galette_ still shiny with her latest touches. She breathed a sigh of relief as she took up her palette and brush, mixing a small amount of cerulean and white.

Below her, she heard Bella shuffling towards the corner where the piano sat. She wasn't going to play, was she? The crinkle of paper and the sound of the key cover folding back were unmistakable. Esme knew she took lessons as a child but never heard her play.

An uneasy note trembled in the air. What would she play? She listened eagerly as Bella plucked some scales, expertly done in Esme's opinion, and then smoothed the paper before hitting a few keys. Esme immediately recognized the tune only four chords into the song. _Claire de Lune_, one of her favorites. It used to remind her of the rare times she saw a gentle Edward, but now it made her think of Edward and Bella's love. Always climbing, growing powerful, yet still sweet and gentle.

The song wasn't what Esme was used to hearing; Edward played it so smoothly it was as if the song belonged to him. Bella's playing was choppy and she often replayed certain parts; when she made a mistake she would mutter, "Wait," and try again.

Was Bella learning the song so she could play for Edward? Esme smiled at the girl's thoughtfulness. Hopefully it wasn't because she felt inferior—Edward played all his life, he did nothing but practice. However, when he played for her, it did seem like he was showing off. She would have to talk to him, but for now she could enjoy her painting and the imperfect lullaby slowly echoing throughout the house. She loved this odd feeling of humanity deep within her.

Fifteen minutes later, the sound of the Volvo speeding down the path broke Esme's serenity. Her boisterous family had returned. She loved them dearly but wished she had more time for herself to enjoy. Sometimes they kept to themselves but she still heard the TV or the hairdryer. Vampiric hearing was not always so wonderful to have.

She flinched when the key cover slammed into place just before the door opened. Emmett was the first to greet Bella.

"Alright, Bella's here! Hey Ma, why didn't you lay some pillows down? The floor looks mighty slippery today."

Esme chuckled as she wiped her hands once again on the wet towel. Only Emmett would be so rude. Greetings were exchanged before each couple went their own way. Emmett and Rosalie went to their room for a shower and change of clothes while Jasper and Alice stopped to see Esme's painting before moving on to do the same. Edward and Bella stayed downstairs in the living room.

"What's this?" Edward murmured.

Bella shrieked and a small fight took place; from the sounds of her panting and giggling, Esme knew Edward was tickling her.

"Stop! I can't breathe, Edward!"

Esme sat, unobtrusively, at the top of the stairs, watching the love birds below. They were sprawled on the couch, Bella pinned underneath Edward as he held his trophy in the air. A tiny rectangle of paper. He unfolded it quickly to peer inside, and then looked back at Bella.

"Sheet music for _Clair de Lune_?" he asked in awe. "Where did you get this from?"

"The internet; I printed it out from the library," she admitted, still a little breathless. "You play it so much for me that I wanted to learn it, too. So I can play with you."

He kissed her gently before helping her sit up. He chuckled, and Esme smiled, as Bella fixed her hair. "Why didn't you say so? I can teach you."

"I wanted it to be a surprise," she blushed. "When you turned me I was going to test my new dexterity and play for _you_ for once."

Edward looked to the piano. "Will you play for me now?"

She didn't fight. She reluctantly went to the bench, pulling back the key cover once more. "I don't know all of it, and it's definitely not going to be as good as your playing, but if you promise not to laugh I'll do it."

"I promise," he replied, setting her wrinkled sheet music on the piano as he sat next to her.

Bella exhaled sharply before she started the first few chords. They were clumsy, but so human, so very Bella. Esme smiled warmly as Edward rested his head on hers, closing his eyes, one hand absently reaching for the keys. He supported her melody, turning the song into a beautiful sound.

Esme quietly went back to her study, setting her canvas off to the side before grabbing a new one to create the masterpiece burning behind her eyes.

The immortal picture of love.


End file.
